


Rainbows End

by ZombieCyborgAssassin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Darcyland, F/M, Two Shot, high school sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCyborgAssassin/pseuds/ZombieCyborgAssassin
Summary: The past comes back to haunt Darcy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> two shot (2 parter) Prompt: Initials carved into a tree. Johnny/Darcy  
> I'm currently writing small pieces to better my writing.  
> I don't own anything, but boy oh boy if only I did...

Darcy was balancing three coffees and a tea in one hand, and a box of pastries in the other as she danced to the music being pumped directly into her ears with little care for the odd looks she was getting from the other passengers in the elevator.

See, it didn’t matter because she had the best job in the world, maybe all nine realms. She got paid a dump truck load of money just to ~~bully~~ make sure three of her friends ate and rested when they should. Yeah there was the transcribing and paper pushing, but she really didn’t mind, her PolySci degree and follow up in Physics would never have gotten her a job this good or rewarding, especially when one of those friends was a hero and the other two were hero support staff. That made her the lynch pin of support because no matter how science smart her friends were, they were life stupid and if she weren’t there, they’d get nothing done.

So basically, life was almost perfect. Darcy smiled to herself as the elevator stopped on the R&D level where her Scientist Three were already hard at work for the morning. Wandering the corridor, mouthing the words to Heart, she carefully balanced the pastry box on her other arm while she reached into her pocket for her key pass to enter the labs. She’d just been able to wrap the lanyard around her wrist when she bumped into the back of a noticeably warm back. Thinking it was either Thor-bro or one of the resident nonagenarians; Darcy pulled her headphones out and grinned up at the last person she thought she’d ever see again.

“Darcy?”

Blinking up at the equally shocked Johnny Storm, she stared paralysed at her high school sweetheart, the only man she’d ever love, past and future tense included.

The silence stretched painfully between the two, both inanimate in the face of the unanticipated reunion. It wasn’t until the coffee cups almost took a tumble from her hands and were caught by a silver arm, did she realise there were other people in the corridor with them. Dazed, she took in the confusion on Steve and Bucky’s faces, unable to collect a single thought.

Steve ever ready to save the day decided to break the silence, his voice so sharp in the stale air.

“Hey Darcy, maybe you can help us out; Bucky seems to think Johnny and I look alike and we both don’t see it.”

Still uncomprehending, she turned to Johnny who was still gaping at her.

Suddenly, like a switch had been flicked, her flight or fight response kicked in. Murmuring something that may have been coherent, she dumped the box and coffees into Bucky’s hands and shot back the way she came.

Ignoring the elevator, she took the stairs up to the residential floors two and three at a time and barrelled into her tiny (for Stark Tower) one bedroom apartment opposite Thor and Jane’s and slammed the door behind her. Then she shakily ordered FRIDAY to lock down the apartment and deny access to everyone except Jane.

Pulling all her curtains closed, still out of breath, she dug through the kitchen cupboards and pulled out the large bottle of whiskey.

She didn’t even bother with a cup as she sipped it direct, trying to push down the agony that she had long thought entirely conquered; or at the very least subdued enough to get by. Locking every door behind her she made her way into her closet, just big enough to sit in, and pulled out the worn shoe box filled with news paper clippings and photographs.

It started with seeing his graduation of NASA’s astronaut training; he was the youngest in history. It was bittersweet, knowing that her pain and loss meant that he could go on and focus on his studies was rewarding. She even went so far as to buying the news paper so she could keep a clipping of the article, something she had kept up ever since. She had also kept every news-worthy clipping of his extreme sporting hobby, something he hadn’t had any interest in while she had known him. But she was proud of his accomplishments, considering what it had cost her, and kept record of everything.

Sometimes she felt like maybe she was a bit of a freak, but then, in her weakest, loneliest moments, she would have nothing else, so she kept at it.

During his first flight, there wasn’t much reported except the launch, and then again later after the ‘technical difficulties’ were overcome. Darcy had been forced to buy a second news paper that day; the first article had been damaged with her tears.

There was more waterworks when it was discovered that the whole crew had been altered molecularly by what was finally admitted as a ‘blast of cosmic rays’ that had also interrupted the space stations communications. His pyrokinesis, his sister’s invisibility, Dr Richards’ weird stretch thing and that other guy with the rock face. That was when they were announced as the Fantastic Four, and were legit super heroes.

By this time, the rumours of his playboy behaviour had already reached the tabloids, and Darcy and Jane were doing their thing in New Mexico. Between the who’s who of the model world gracing his bed and the constant risk to his life, Darcy was constantly teetering between scared and depressed.

Obviously, Jane picked up on Darcy’s mood swings, and having no one else to talk to, Darcy confessed to breaking up with the love of her life at the end of high school so he didn’t throw away his future, something that Jane was in agreement with. Darcy went into detail about finding out he had bought a ring and was planning to propose, but she never clarified who it was, just the name Johnny.

By the time Jane found Darcy later that day, she was still in her closet and she had downed half the bottle of whiskey, was ugly crying and was surrounded by news clippings and old photos of the two of them.

“Oh, Darcy.” She sighed.

“No, Jane, not ‘Oh Darcy,’ I did this on purpose. He was going to ask me to marry me, and I couldn’t let him do it. See all this?” Darcy slurred. “This would never have happened if I had let him ask me.”

Jane looked at some of the clippings, but paused to pick up a picture of a young smiling Darcy, her arms wrapped around a tall young Johnny Storm. They were standing by a large tree trunk with a very clear carving of their initials at waist height, well Johnny’s waist, Darcy’s chest.

Darcy leaned over to see which photo Jane was looking at. “That’s the tree that Johnny was going to ask you to marry him wasn’t it?” Jane asked softly, recognising the tree in Darcy’s retelling of their breakup.

“Yeah.” Darcy stared at the photo, tears freefalling down her face.

“Why did you never mention it was Johnny Storm, as in the ‘Human Torch’ Johnny Storm?” Jane asked just as softly.

Darcy’s eyes slowly made their way from the photograph depicting a happier time to struggle to focus on her friends face. “He was gone whether he was a celebrity or not, Janey.”

Jane’s shoulders slumped. She had come to figure out what Darcy had said or did to make Storm freak out in the hallway. He hadn’t made much sense to anyone except Sue, who, along with the rest of the scientists, had come running at the commotion he was making. Sue had calmed him enough to gather their things and leave the tower without breaking anything.  She understood now. She understood so much of what had happened, today and in the past years.

Smiling a soft smile down at Darcy, who had gone back to petting a photo of Johnny, smiling in the autumn light directly at the camera. She would try to help. Her friend deserved happiness.

And with that thought, Jane helped Darcy to tidy up the clippings and get her ready to go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up so much longer than the first, but I'm happy with it.

Darcy was mad. No, furious! She was going to make someone feel the sparkly end of her taser... in their underpants area. And then she was going to paint them in honey and call that Ant dude and get him to bring his ants and shit will go down.

She’d been sitting in Tony’s R&D panic room, and no, it didn’t matter _how_ much it looked like a hotel room and was hulk proof it was still her current prison, for hours. Well, it was probably more like half an hour, but with this hangover, it felt like hours.

She’d been lead in her weakened state to do some science helping by someone who shall not be named ~~it was totally Jane~~ and was shoved into the panic room and locked the door behind her. And didn’t even have the decency to leave any coffee!

At least there weren’t any windows, because the sun is evil and should be brought to justice by one Steven Grant Rogers. She would give him the food of the gods if he did. Pop Tarts are the food of Thor, so that claim totally counts.

She startled awake to the sound of the door opening, wiping the drool from her chin, and opened her mouth to complain loudly at this inhumane treatment, only to snap it shut again.

At the door, a tired looking Johnny was leaning against the closed door, patting out a small fire that he had started on the small vase of faux flowers on the side table, apologising to them.

Darcy frowned at him, trying to figure out why Johnny would be talking to things, when he tried to stand up and tilted off to one side, caught himself on the back of an arm chair and another small flame was ignited on the chair. Johnny then began patting out that flame as well, offering more apologies for igniting it.

Having realised that Johnny was drunk, Darcy tried her best to move slow and make herself look small on the bed. Sadly, this only caught Johnny’s attention. He stood, staring at Darcy, who was clearly suffering a hangover, sprawled out on the bed, looking like a deer in head lights.

“Huh, you look like someone I use’ to know.” Johnny mumbled, dismissing her presence and stumbling around the black chaise lounge, to slump into the cushions. Thankfully there were no flames this time.

They sat in their respective spots quietly for so long; Darcy was convinced Johnny had fallen asleep. That is, until he grunted, “How long ish thish gonna take?” to himself.

Deciding that she was going to take advantage of his drunken stupor and lack in focus, and try to find a hiding... nope. No hiding places anywhere. Not even under the bed, where there were cupboards full of non-perishables and medical supplies. Lame.

As though he’d just remembered there was someone else in the room, Johnny switched from morose to animated in the blink of an eye and was turned to face her on the bed, if a little unfocused, pinning her to her spot down beside the bed.

They eyed each other silently; the tension in the air was thick enough to hold them both immobile.

Johnny swallowed; the sound near deafening. “You totally are the someone I use’ to know.” He whispered.

Darcy couldn’t withstand the emotions churning in Johnny’s eyes, so she looked away, doing her best to look unaffected. Like Natasha. Yeah, channel the Widow... only don’t try to choke him with her thighs, because he would totally be into that. A Legless Widow. She was a legless Black Widow who don’t need no man or no feels and can kill with her pinky finger. Only Darcy won’t be killing Johnny, obviously.

Darcy flicked her eyes over to him quickly, only wanting to gauge his current state, but was distressed by the sight of him putting out another fire and apologising to the lounge. Taking a deep breath, she reached under the bed and grabbed a couple bottles of water. She placed one on the table by the bed for herself, and then made her way over to Johnny, trying not to draw his attention, and dropped the bottle by him on the couch. Then she scuttled back to the bed before he realised what had happened.

She was opening her own water when his delighted hum caught her attention, and watched unmoving as he used the whole water bottle to put out the small flame on the back of the couch.

He smiled a goofy drunk smile at her in thanks, and she just didn’t know how to respond. Rolling her eyes, she reached down for another and stood as far away from him as she could to hand it to him.

“Oh, no itsh cool.” he waved his hand around his head as though fighting off a bee. “I got the fire out with jusht the one bottle.”

She gave him her patented slow blink. “Dude, that was meant for you to drink; not baptize the couch. Drink it, you’re totally drunk.” She said, offering the new bottle more forcefully.

He stared at her a moment with an adorable bewildered expression, a moment that made her want to cuddle him up in a blanket and feed him soup, and then down at the couch.

“The couch is going to heaven?” he asked amazed.

Darcy sucked her lips in between her teeth and bit down hard enough to not guffaw in his face.

“You are _so_ drunk.” She let out in a strangled whisper.

He grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll fix that.” He said, just before steam started curling up from the wet couch.

Darcy’s panicked yelp made him look up. “What are you doing!?”

“Don’ worry, Button, I jusht gonna heat up a little and slowly burn off the alcohol. I don’ wanna ‘flame on’ and eat up all the air.” At that he tilted his head back on the lounge and closed his eyes.

Darcy felt her eyes sting at the long unheard endearment, and focused solely on keeping her breathing even so she didn’t start weeping. He’d started teasing her by calling her that in second grade after his Mom called her ‘cute as a button,’ something that had made 7 year old Darcy mad. She wasn’t cute! The car accident that had killed Johnny’s Mom the following year cemented the nickname between them.

After a few moments of standing there, focused on keeping herself together, she was interrupted by Johnny’s hand patting the cushion next to him. “Siddown, you’re makin’ me anxious.”

Darcy’s eyes bounced between his still closed eyes and the lounge suite before perching carefully on the opposite end of the couch. Johnny’s only response was to sigh through his nose.

Suffocating in the silence, Darcy did what she did best: she babbled.

“So that rock-faced guy… I have so many questions. Does he like have holes in the sides of his head; like a lizard? And how does he wipe his ass; wouldn’t he tear up the toilet paper? Does he use sandpaper? And I just don’t even know how he has sex. I mean, is it always hard or does it get harder?”

By the end of her verbal vomit, Johnny was shaking with laughter.

After he caught his breath, he looked over at her, already more clear-eyed than before. “Ah, Button, I have asked these questions and more. I never get an answer ‘cause he tries to clobber me for asking.”

Darcy ducked her head, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

“I don’t blame him, sounds like he’s been having a _hard_ time. Maybe you shouldn’t _rock_ the boat.”

Johnny snickered, and then shook his head. “I shall leave no _stone_ unturned.”

Giggling, she managed to answer, “Maybe you need to be _boulder_ with your questions?”

Johnny jumped right in with, “Or maybe he just can’t stand the _heat_?” as though he’d been dying to say it.

Darcy covered her face with her hands and let out a sound that was part groan and part giggle.

“C’mon, Button, I’m just _warming_ up.” He goaded.

“Doesn’t he know it was just friendly _fire_?” Darcy managed to get out. She saw his eyes light up from between her fingers.

“I guess he’s been _burned_ too many times before.”

Darcy grinned, her hands absently falling away from her face. “If he doesn’t like the _heat_ , he should stay out of the kitchen.”

“To be fair, I do like to _poach_ the boundaries.”

Darcy scrunched her face. “I think you’ve been around Richards for too long, ‘cause that one was a bit of a _stretch_.”

Johnny chortled. “I’m clearly no _match_ for you.”

Darcy waved her hand, forcing her giggles down to sound sympathetic, “It’s fine; you’ve clearly been _burning_ the candle at both ends.”

Johnny stilled, his laughter dying. “I’m _burning_ to know what you mean.” He said keeping his eyes averted.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably huffing a weak laugh. “Well you’ve been quite the _hot_ topic, _burning_ up the pages of the magazines with what you do during the day and who you do during the night.”

Johnny’s jaw flexed, turning Darcy’s stomach to lead but it didn’t stop her mouth, even if she was screaming at it internally. “Apparently you’re a _hot_ commodity. They all seem quite _flash in the pan_ , too.”

When Johnny finally responded, his voice was thick and it was a knife to her already torn heart.

“It wasn’t always _flash fires_ , there was once a _flame_ I held a _blazing torch_ for, was even ready to take our _tinder_ feelings to the next level, but she _incinerated_ my heart.”

Darcy curled in on herself, hands over her face, her hair covering her hands, trying to stop the pain from showing. She felt like she was going to be sick, her stomach churned at Johnny’s pained voice echoing in her head.

She could feel the heat and sentiment rolling off Johnny where he sat; it felt syrupy and oppressive.

In the dead air of the room, the sound of paper being pushed under the door was intrusive.

Darcy stayed rooted to the couch, but felt the cushions move as Johnny got up. The heat buffeted at different angles of her body as he moved through the room. There was a soft shuffle of paper, and then the heat source moved again, stopping in front of Darcy.

Darcy, ever curious, watched through her fingers as Johnny knelt by the coffee table, and pulled a familiar shoebox from under it. Ice filled her veins and a cold sweat broke out across her body, despite the raised temperature of the room.

Sitting stock-still, she watched as he lifted the lid and stared bewildered before he distractedly placed the lid down and began pulling handfuls of news paper clippings and photos out. He began sifting through them, rubbing his finger tips over the worn edges as he skimmed the articles and handling some with greater care than others where the folds had become frayed.

After an eternity, he placed the last one down, amongst the others and looked up at Darcy in question. “What is this?” he breathed.

She sat silently, her heart thumping against her rib cage trying to breathe the heavy air.

Time stretched out between them until it held no meaning before it snapped back with Johnny’s soft, “Darcy?”

She chocked on a sob. “They are the things you would never have had if I let you marry me,” she pushed out of her throat where the words had lodged themselves.

Johnny’s eyes went wide and sat still for a moment before desperation coloured his voice and anger flushed his face.

“Are you kidding me right now? You knew I was going to propose?” He burst.

Darcy sat up imploring, “Johnny, if we had gotten married, you’d still be stuck in Glenville in some small house living paycheck to paycheck as a mechanic or something and you’ll never have been able to reach your potential or achieved so much.” Her hand waved in the direction of the clippings.

He gaped at her.

“You were always meant for more than what Glenville could offer. I didn’t want to be in the way or hold you back.” She finished lamely.

They stared at each other, letting the new knowledge settle around the dusty wreckage of their hearts.

After a moment Johnny looked down and began packing away the clippings and photos, placed the box on the table and shuffled over to kneel in front of Darcy, flush against the lounge cushions.

Darcy stared, in a trancelike state, as Johnny tenderly hooked her hair behind her ears and gently removed her hands from in front of her face. Cradling her face as though it were about to shatter, and it kind of felt like it was, he softly brushed his nose against hers. She was trembling as he sucked in a shaking breath.

“Button, I would trade all the things in that box to live paycheck to paycheck in a small house with you.” He paused to take a breath, as though he couldn’t get enough air. “Yeah, I achieved my potential, but what kind of successful life is it when my best friend and love of my life isn’t in it?”

Darcy stared, unable to look away from the intensity in his gaze. Licking his upper lip nervously, his eyes telegraphed his intent, he leaned the last few inches between them.

Eyes open, she felt her very bones melt as his warm lips brushed hers so softly it made her want to cry. Or maybe she was already crying. She couldn’t really focus on anything other than Johnny’s wet blue eyes and his red mouth.

The kiss, barely a grazing of damp lips, was over almost before it began, but they were both gasping for breath at its potency. Their foreheads were connected and eyes unable to be torn from each others’, when their walls fell and each was showing and being shown all the agony of their separation.

Choking on a sob, Johnny leaned back in again, this time the kiss was messy and desperate and forceful and perfect.

Darcy gave as good as she got, and returned every muttered declaration; “I miss you.” “I love you.” “Please, don’t leave me.”

When the door to the panic room was finally opened hours later, Johnny and Darcy were found sitting on the floor, clutching each other so close they couldn’t tell where one started or the other ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unrelated side:  
> In my research of Johnny Storms background, I came across the funniest piece of info I've ever read. Now first know; Johnny was 16 yrs when he became the Human Torch in the comics, and lived in a fictional town in the state of New York called Glenville.  
> "Though a member of a world-famous team, Storm still lived primarily in Glenville and attended Glenville High School. Here he thought he maintained a secret identity, although his fellow townsfolk were well aware of his being a member of the Fantastic Four and simply humored him."  
> Basically, while Spidey was creepin' round New York and keeping his identity hidden successfully, Johnny was living in a town thinking he was also hiding his identity, when really the WHOLE TOWN was in on it and just let him keep creepin'.  
> (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_Torch)


End file.
